


All I want is for us to be together

by TimeToRemember



Category: Rome
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, I can't stress this enough, IT'S ALL JUST SEX, M/M, Minor powerplay, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Sexual Content, Spanking, Teasing, there's sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:36:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeToRemember/pseuds/TimeToRemember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maecenas, Agrippa and Octavian take some time out away from their responsibilities and the things they have to deal with on a regular basis, to, well, spend some time <i>together,</i> instead. </p><p>Or, alternatively: wherein Maecenas objects to a very dull political conversation, and, in doing so, manages to derail it entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I want is for us to be together

Octavian – no, _Caesar_ , let’s not forget that – had done it. Had ripped the reins out of the old, surprisingly strong grip of the Senators, and taken Rome, just like that. Like it was easy. Like he’d been born to it. Like he’d been planning it for years. (The last, at least, was likely. He’d always had that _way_ about him.) And Maecenas and Agrippa now stood shoulder to shoulder with the most powerful man in Rome.

It felt good. 

But, among other things, it also ensured that almost every last scrap of privacy vanished. They were frequently on display, dressed like peacocks to play to the crowd, while the masses gawked and the few enemies they had left alive endlessly picked over every move they made. It was not a secure position – could it ever be? – but it was strong, nonetheless.

They were used to it. Octavian had taken to it like a duck newly introduced to water – he was no novice, that was for sure – and the rest of them had coped well enough, rising to each challenge that faced them until that, too, became second nature. But, sometimes, (not too many times, that would make the people talk, and they already did far too much of that), it was…pleasant to step away from it. To take a moment to just _be_ , without responsibilities or repercussions.

(Not for Octavian, of course. He didn’t need the rest, given that he seemed to _thrive _on the lot of it. But for Maecenas…well. He liked his distractions).__

__It wasn’t like he had to go far to find them._ _

__~_ _

__Maecenas, spread out without even a cloth to preserve his modesty – spread out where _anyone_ could see, on the cold marble floor of Octavian’s villa – moved for the third time, restless and impatient in a way he never was when they discussed state policy. Then again, he’d never been quite so, well, _distracted_ when they directed their collective minds to such important matters, so he couldn’t really be blamed. _ _

__He stilled almost immediately, breathing out soft curses – _Gods, I am usually better at this, and I can _feel_ Agrippa’s amusement_ – and pressed his sweaty forehead to the cool floor, long, slender limbs splaying out further, as if in supplication – Maecenas would never _actually_ beg, what a ludicrous suggestion – but, predictably, neither of his two companions were convinced by that display of apparent submission. _ _

__They knew him far too well._ _

__Agrippa moved away. His strong, deft fingers had been deep inside Maecenas only moments before, twisting and teasing as they coaxed increasingly desperate sounds from him, and when they left, parting from him easily despite how desperately Maecenas clenched around them, shameless with it, he couldn’t help but _whine_ , a small, hopeless murmur of sound born of constant and growing frustration. _ _

__This should not be difficult. His poker face was impenetrable, he was highly intelligent, and he was far from a novice to activities of this sort._ _

__And yet._ _

__They had brought him to _this_ – to slowly shaking apart on a nest of blankets in full view of anyone that happened to wander by, to holding back desperately from taking the easy way out and finishing himself off – with stunning speed, using only Agrippa’s strong, skillful fingers and the undeniable power and authority of Octavian’s voice. _ _

__It – was laughable, really. And it certainly should not be happening. But Maecenas was finding it increasingly difficult to recall why he should try to do anything but take it._ _

__It had, after all, taken some time to reach the present state of affairs, having begun with a very normal, very dull, discussion of policy that had featured considerable talk of the land around Rome. Maecenas had soon grown bored with such topics, more suited to politics and trickery, and his agile mind had wandered to concerns he was of the opinion were of significantly higher importance. He had tried to voice them during a pause in the proceedings, but Octavian had waved him off, and that was when Maecenas had decided, with the same kind of wickedness that led him into flatly ignoring Octavian’s emphasis on the appearance of virtue, to see if he could make that famed composure snap._ _

__Not the most laudable of aims, but Maecenas, at least, considered it to be worthwhile._ _

__He’d done everything that had come to mind. He’d stretched out as far as he could on his seat, displaying his slender figure to perfection, he’d yawned at particularly detailed moments, made self-evident, achingly obnoxious comments at every single opportunity provided to him, and had, to put it simply, pushed and pushed, aware the entire time that he was privy to more leeway than any other individual in their ‘fair’ city, except Agrippa, and taking full advantage of that fact. Even Octavian’s own family did not fare as well as he did._ _

__The thought never ceased to make him smile._ _

__And then Octavian had, quite suddenly, snapped, cutting off his very detailed and carefully put together sentence in favour of stalking over to yank Maecenas off his seat and onto the floor in a display of violence that he was ordinarily far too controlled to indulge in._ _

___Success._ _ _

__The moment had only improved when Octavian told Agrippa to keep him in place; tethered violence adding an extra edge to his tone – while he had created the pile of blankets Maecenas was currently lying on._ _

__Maecenas had obeyed with alacrity, and what he judged to be a suitably contrite expression, as he was ordered firstly to remove his robes – he did that quickly, recognising that making a show of it would be entertaining but not well received, thus potentially defeating his purpose – and then to lay on the blankets, settling down comfortably while Agrippa had taken up a position at his side, callused hand resting lightly on the small of his back._ _

__“If you move, Maecenas, Agrippa will punish you. If you speak, Agrippa will punish you. If you do anything that I do not give you permission to do, he will punish you. Nod if you understand.” Octavian hadn’t raised his voice, careful articulation never faltering, and Maecenas had hesitated for the slightest moment before he’d nodded, sharply, and dropped his gaze to the floor. He’d known Octavian long enough to realise that instead of grazing the edge of the line he’d accidentally danced right over it with a nod and a wink and his middle finger in the air, so some caution seemed necessary._ _

__Then._ _

__Octavian had resumed his seat, leaving Maecenas and Agrippa on the floor together, and his conversation, continuing from where he had left off without even a momentary hesitation. Once again, the only sound in the room had been his calm, deliberate voice as he speculated on the price of horses and the latest crop problem._ _

__Agrippa had quickly added his voice to the debate, and a dull flush crept into Maecenas’s cheeks as he realised what Octavian had done – how his stated rules isolated him from their conversation with mind-numbing effectiveness. Banned from making any contribution to policy he could write in his sleep, Maecenas had struggled with the restrictions for as long as he could, but ‘as long as he could’ didn’t mean all that much, really._ _

__He had articulated roughly half of his first intended word, turning to sit up on the blankets in order to face his two companions, when Agrippa’s hand had slid up his back and _shoved_ , forcing him straight back down. He went with a startled kind of huff, bracing his hands just quickly enough to protect his face, but had pushed straight up again when Agrippa’s other hand came into sudden contact with his bared buttocks, the stinging slap making him wince and yelp, righteous indignation demanding immediate action._ _

__It said a lot about Agrippa – and about himself – that he had then dealt with Maecenas’s attempted resistance with little effort and using only one hand, keeping Maecenas practically flat on the blankets and unable to attain sufficient leverage to defeat him. Luckily for him, Maecenas had quickly become aware of the truth of his circumstances and had given in after only a few moments of silent struggling, so his subsequent punishment was less severe than it might have been if he’d persisted._ _

__As soon as Maecenas had relaxed, Agrippa had slapped him again, harder, in roughly the same place as before._ _

__Maecenas had snarled some particularly inventive curses into the blankets, most of them casting various slights upon Agrippa’s lineage, but he hadn’t moved, and Agrippa’s restrictive touch subsequently gentled, his warm palm sliding down Maecenas’s back to rest gently on his hip._ _

__Then Agrippa had addressed Octavian again, and the two of them had transitioned flawlessly into talk of Egypt – problematic rumours were rife, as ever – and Maecenas, deciding his efforts to engage them both were useless and doomed to failure, had let himself drift off, the sound of their voices carrying him into slumber._ _

__~_ _

__It was the familiar coolness of the lotion they used that had woken him, startling cold against his heated, flushed skin. Even as he jerked awake, eyes flying open, vision adjusting slowly to the sudden change in his circumstances, Agrippa had pressed a finger into him. Maecenas twitched – couldn’t help but do so, there were some things one couldn’t resist – but said not a word, and was rewarded by the feel of Agrippa’s other hand settling on his hip, callused thumb caressing soft skin._ _

__“Sleeping, Maecenas?” Agrippa had inquired, all polite, careful manners, solicitous to a fault._ _

__Maecenas had refused to respond, blindingly, achingly aware of Octavian’s rules, and determined to comply, and he had heard a soft, approving murmur from above, before the teasing began._ _

__Maecenas had already felt the flat of Agrippa’s hand two times, and even the thought of it was enough to make him flush, embarrassment and need twining together uncomfortably, when Agrippa crooked his finger _just so_ , Maecenas’s determination had crumbled like chalk. His hips curled, pressing up and back to encourage more, and Agrippa had indulged him for just a moment before he’d moved away, pulling his finger out with little ceremony._ _

__~_ _

___Temptation is your weakness, Maecenas,_ they’d told him at the Academy, during one of many fruitless efforts to curb his restless spirit. He’d laughed in way of reply, shrugged, and wandered off before they could continue. But they’d been right. It was never quite so obvious as it was during these moments, and he always resolved to make better choices.  
He never did._ _

__Maecenas was given a moment to contemplate what was to follow – Agrippa and Octavian were _still_ talking, but he had long since lost track of the meanderings of their discussion – and then Agrippa’s grip changed, and Maecenas was dragged up onto his lap._ _

__~_ _

__Agrippa set one thick, muscular arm over his back to keep him in place as he administered the punishment. He used only his hand, delivering hard, measured strokes. He paused between each one, letting the sting travel and grow, perhaps intending for Maecenas to think on his transgressions, and, if nothing else, it prevented his thoughts from wandering too far. Each time he let himself drift, the next strike brought him back, relentlessly, ceaselessly._ _

__He withstood it for some time, longer than he thought he would, but soon enough he started squirming and whimpering, not quite struggling, but complaining as eloquently as he could under the circumstances._ _

__Agrippa continued, unstoppable as the rain, until he reached twenty strikes, at which point he stopped, placed his hand flat upon Maecenas’s heated skin, and rubbed gently, soothingly, until the tears that had been silently sliding down Maecenas’s cheeks came to a stop and his hitching breaths settled._ _

__He could deal with pain. The humiliation, however, was not quite so easy to banish. To have been taken over the knee and punished like a child for speaking before he had been spoken to, and to have his body betray him, arousal growing under the assault – it rankled, plain and simple, and it was clear that in the wake of his punishment, Maecenas did not feel contrite._ _

___Irritated_ worked._ _

__Maecenas moved to slide off Agrippa’s lap and leave – where to, he had not decided – but an entirely different hand drew him to a stop. It was Agrippa that tried to restrain him, but Octavian, his cool, smooth palm a direct contrast to Agrippa’s calluses, and thus easily identifiable. But it was so unexpected, to have Octavian touch him now, that despite his best intentions, it brought him to an immediate halt._ _

__Octavian’s other hand at his entrance, slender fingers probing delicately at his rim, still slick from Agrippa’s earlier ministrations, and Maecenas froze, anticipatory, biting his lip against the biting need to urge him on._ _

__And then, finally, Octavian tightened his hold and drew Maecenas back onto him, paying no apparent heed to the how the speed of it made him tighten up with discomfort. His arousal had waned during his – his [i]spanking[/i] – but Octavian’s calm mastery of the situation – of [i]him[/i] – was impossible to deny._ _

__Maecenas whined, couldn’t bite back the sound if he tried, and Octavian paused with him held flush against his chest, one surprisingly strong arm wrapped around his waist – Maecenas tended to forget, on occasion, that Octavian had also been to war – until Maecenas adjusted, managing a jerky nod of assent to indicate that the pain had faded._ _

__He was given a few more moments of grace, and then Octavian started on him, holding him relatively motionless as he thrust strongly into him._ _

__Maecenas, caught between pain as the tender skin of his ass was gifted with somewhat rough treatment from Octavian’s hips, and pleasure as Octavian’s cock drove deeper inside of him with each well-timed and exquisitely placed thrust, sort of shook in his arms, desperate to reciprocate, but unable, in his current position, to do anything other than just push back into each thrust and simply take it._ _

__He looked to Agrippa, expression pleading while his voice could not, and practically sobbed when all he did was move forward to take hold of him, sliding into place in front of the other two. His knees bracketed Maecenas’s legs as he knelt on the floor in front of them, and his strong hands landed on his hips to pin him back more firmly against Octavian. That provided the latter with the leverage to really let loose, and his subsequent thrusts, even harder, had Maecenas rocking forwards helplessly into Agrippa’s firm hold, panting heavily as they systematically broke him apart._ _

__A few more thrusts that grazed his prostate, and Maecenas teetered on the edge of what promised to be a satisfyingly good orgasm, all too ready for it, but almost as soon as he’d realised just how close he was, Agrippa arrived at the same knowledge, and in moments his strong, callused fingers were wrapped tightly around the base of Maecenas’s cock, grip just strong enough to prevent him from obtaining the release he sought, but not too strong that it became painful._ _

__It was masterful, really._ _

__Maecenas’s vision blurred as Octavian drove into him again, either unknowing or uncaring of his plight, but he still had enough presence of mind to breathe out several curses, all of them calling into doubt Agrippa’s parentage, until Octavian, brutally single-minded Octavian, [i]chuckled[/i], of all things, and told Agrippa to have mercy on him._ _

__It took just two strokes from Agrippa’s talented hand to drive Maecenas into his climax, which had him clenching tight around Octavian with his hands firm on Agrippa’s shoulders, and he lost some time, because when he could consider moving his body again, his thighs were slick with what had to be the result of Octavian’s release, and he was curled up between the two of them with one of the blankets tucked neatly around him._ _

__They rose, some time later, to be served dinner by their slaves, and Maecenas surprised neither of the other two when he produced a viable solution to their ‘Egypt problem’ seemingly out of thin air._ _


End file.
